Twisted
by SaikoCho
Summary: Mac relives the incident with Frankie and the older girl leaves him with a few words of advice just before Bloo finds him to leave Frankie to deal with the spoiled resident at Foster's. Frankie gets her own encounter while running errands. Chapter 1.
1. Prologue : The Errand

**AN**: My first Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends fanfiction. Hopefully I didn't butcher the characters too much!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, but I do own the 'mysterious teenager.' Lame, yes, but that one is mine, everything else, including the lyrics both in English and further down in Japanese, belongs to Ayumi Hamasaki from her song 'still alone.' Enjoy!

* * *

**Twisted**

* * *

_But even so, why?_

_But I..._

_I remember your promise. _

_I remember every day_.

**_still alone_**

**Hamasaki Ayumi**

* * *

"C'mon, Frankie." Mac pleaded.

"Mac, please." Frankie frowned down at him, but soon her brows shot up as she gazed at him thoughtfully. "Man, you really are shooting up like a bean sprout."

"You really think so?" Mac asked excitedly as his entire face lit up.

"Yeah, I think you've got a good three, no, four inches on you!" Frankie smiled. "You'll be a big help around the house, not saying that you weren't before."

"Yeah?" Mac straightened his posture, puffing out his chest in a moment of self-confidence. "You know, mom's been actually saying the same thing. I can even outrun Terrence."

"I bet you're the fastest on the track." Frankie smirked as she stirred the contents within the large pot simmering on the stove; a simple spaghetti lunch was on the menu.

"Well, we're actually finishing flag football and moving on to soccer--wait." Mac looked at Frankie sharply, realizing where the conversation was leading to. His eyes narrowed. "Don't change the subjec--"

"Try this!" Frankie all but shoved the wooden spoon into his mouth.

Mac nearly gagged on the utensil as Frankie let go to retrieve a ladle to resume her stirring. He pulled the spoon from his mouth, glaring at her.

"Great, isn't it?" Frankie smiled as she added seasoning to the pot of spaghetti sauce. She then flicked back her bangs with an air of arrogance, speaking in the best French accent she could muster. "I may not be the head chef at the Le Ritz de Paris, but I can make a mean spaghetti and meatball lunch, if I do say so myself."

"You're re-heating the tomato sauce you bought from the grocery store." Mac said flatly, reluctant to agree that her sauce was, indeed, tasty. It was well passed noon on a Saturday, it could have been because he was hungry and that anything, even a stale bagel would have tasted like a doughnut made from the finest bakery in town.

"With a few refining touches that make it more than just generic, out of the jar, grocery store bought tomato and basil sauce!" Frankie countered, stirring the sauce with flourish as she flicked her bangs from her forehead once more.

"Frankie!" Mac brandished the wooden spoon at her. "Seriously!"

"I kid you not, my dear boy." Frankie nodded as she snatched the spoon from his grasp. "No need to point utensils at me."

"Frankie." His voice took on a hint of exasperation.

"Mm." Frankie hummed in response as she tasted the sauce for herself. "Not bad, not bad at all."

"C'mon." Mac frowned as he backed over to the counter, sitting on one of the stools as he watched Frankie continue to make lunch. He briefly noticed how it took a slight jump in order for him to seat himself comfortably on the stool, but it was progress from when he had to actually climb up to seat himself by the counter. "Why won't you tell me? Don't you trust me, Frankie?"

"First of all, I've told you before. There's nothing left to tell. And to answer your second question, sure I do, pal." Frankie said absently, covering the simmering pot of sauce to check on the spaghetti noodles. Her findings satisfactory for the moment, she moved over to the oven, but her hand hesitated over the handle. "Whoops."

Frankie turned to the cupboards, opening each one, only to close it with a slight noise of disappointment.

"You can't be serious." Mac said as he pulled the small container of sugar to him, pulling off the lid to stir its contents. Sugar still put him on quite a level of euphoria, to put it nicely, but now at age ten, closing in on eleven, the effects have dulled, even in the slightest. Still, he wouldn't be one to chance it. Mac replaced the cover and pushed it away with a slight look of disgust.

"I know!" Frankie exclaimed, surprising Mac as she slammed the cupboard far at the other end of the kitchen.

"Really?"

"I'm serious, Mac!" Frankie moaned, heading over to the fridge. She opened the doors, and then sighed. "Completely and totally."

"Really?" Mac's brow raised in surprise at her sudden change of heart. "So that means..."

"You got it, pal." Frankie had shut the door to the refrigerator, leaning against it as she cast him a solemn look.

"You'll tell me?!" Mac exclaimed excitedly just as Frankie made her statement.

"We're out of garlic bread."

"We're out of garlic--wait what?" Mac's excitement drained away to confusion as he stared at Frankie incredulously.

"I know! What kind of spaghetti meal has no garlic bread?" Frankie shook her head in disapproval. "Nope. I can't have that."

"Wait. We're out of garlic bread? That's what you were talking about?" Mac repeated, still in a state of confusion.

"Yep. Not a single loaf in the kitchen. Can you believe that? Well," Frankie paused, raising a finger to her lips in thought. "I guess that wouldn't be so unbelievable in this house."

"Were you even listening to a word I said?" Mac demanded, pulling Frankie back from her thoughts.

"Yeah, sure. You were making fun of my sauce." Frankie crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed. "Like I'd let that slip."

"Frankie!" Mac groaned in exasperation, letting his head fall onto the counter with a dull thud.

"Sheesh, no need to lose a few brain cells over it. You don't have that many to spare." Mac gave her a dry look and Frankie giggled in response, giving him a wink as she walked over to him, grabbing his shoulders to give them a quick, affectionate squeeze. "I'm just kidding, Mac. Now, how about doing your dear, sweet Frankie a favor?"

"Will you tell me if I do?" Mac asked hopefully, straightening up as he tilted his head to see her expression.

"So the grocery store is only a few blocks away," Frankie said as she ignored Mac's question. " I'd go myself but I've already started everything. Thanks a bunch."

"But--"Mac tried to interject.

"I know," Frankie beat him to it as she pulled out a small wad of bills, placing it in Mac's hand. "You might need some help. I'm sure Wilt or Eduardo would be happy to help. I'd suggest Bloo, but, you know."

"Frank--"

"Thanks, buddy!" With that Frankie had pushed Mac out the kitchen, giving him one last smile before she shut the door in his face.

Mac's mouth hung open as he stared at the closed door, unable to come up with a response to her impromptu decision to make him her errand boy. Feeling indignant, Mac made to raise his hand and throw the money to the floor, but instead, he let it drop to his side, pocketing it with a mumbled promise under his breath as he shuffled off in search of his friends.

Bloo really wasn't the best choice to help Mac, but he was his best friend and under different circumstances, it would have been Bloo that would walk with him to the nearby grocery store and most likely turn a simple errand into a chaotic adventure. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately enough, Bloo was currently busy with his own escapades.

"Gottahide gottahide gottahide--oh hey, Mac." Bloo's expression of fear fell at the sight of his best friend and creator.

"Hey." Mac said half-heartedly, earning a look from his friend.

"Is that all that I get? What is that?" Bloo snorted, waving his hands in the air. "Never mind, enough about you. Right now my life's in jeopardy and talking to you at this very moment decreases any chance of survival I may have."

There was a moment of silence.

"What?" Mac let confusion reign over his expression. "Look, do you want to come with me to the grocery store and pick up something for Frankie?"

"Why can't she do it herself? I tell you, that girl gets lazier and lazier every day." Bloo said with a slight shake of his head. "Really, you'd think that--"

"CO CO!"

Bloo and Mac froze at the cry that echoed throughout the hallway along with the sounds of bare feet slapping down against the hardwood floors.

"Gottahide gottahide!" Bloo's face now a picture of pure panic and fright as he darted past Mac and to the main staircase and out of sight.

Coco appeared just seconds after he disappeared, her eyes burning and the leaves that were created to be her hair was swaying rapidly around her head, her beak twisted into an angry snarl as she marched over to the startled boy. Mac nearly stepped back, but reminded himself that she was angry at Bloo, at least, that's what he could conclude at his friend's sudden disappearance at Cocos war-like cry.

"Coco co coco co?" Coco demanded with her usual one-worded vocalization, stomping her foot for emphasis as she bore her angry eyes into Mac's own timid gaze.

"Bloo? What's he done now?" Mac frowned.

"Coco! Cococo coco cococo co co!" Coco snapped, her eyes narrowed.

"No!" Mac looked at her horrified.

"Coco!"

"He didn't!"

"Coco!"

"He's upstairs." Mac pointed up the staircase. Coco gave him a short nod and began heading up the steps. "Oh, wait. Do you know where Wilt and Eduardo are?"

Coco answered with a jerk of her head towards the way she had come before disappearing up the steps herself. Mac called out a word of gratitude, despite the fact that she probably wouldn't hear it, before heading down the hall.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, he found a room with the door slightly ajar. Wilt and Eduardo both glanced up, pausing in their cleaning to offer him a greeting.

"Hey, Mac!" Wilt said cheerfully as he picked up the plastic eggs and tossed them expertly into a woven basket at the far end of the room.

"Hola, Señor Mac." Eduardo greeted with a toothy smile, his thunderous steps echoing in the room as he turned a chair back onto its legs.

"So Coco wasn't kidding." Mac said, his voice expressing his amusement as he surveyed the room. Wilt sighed and Eduardo shuddered.

"Sí, Señorita Coco was muy upset."

"I could tell." Mac smiled. "Anyway, I wanted to know if you guys wanted to come to the grocery store with me. I need to pick up garlic bread for lunch."

"Sure thing, Mac." Wilt agreed at once, his smile widening. "Just let us finish up here and we'll be on our way."

"Garlic bread?" Eduardo questioned.

"Yup. Frankie's making spaghetti." Mac said as he helped clean up the room.

"With meatballs?" Eduardo asked.

"I think so." Mac paused as he tried to recall.

"Muy bueno! And potatoes?" Eduardo asked hopefully.

"Um, I don't think so. Sorry, Ed." Mac gave the furry imaginary friend an apologetic look as he picked up the last of the plastic eggs.

"Oh. Is okay. Lunch still sounds muy bueno." Eduardo grinned.

"We better hurry if it's for lunch." Wilt said as he glanced up at a nearby clock.

"Right. Sorry for bothering you guys," Mac added as they left the room.

"It's no problem, Mac." Wilt waved off as they headed for the main entrance. "We're happy to help."

"Sí, is no problem Señor Mac. Maybe we can add potatoes to lunch as well!!" Eduardo said.

"You'll have to ask Frankie about that." Mac said as he opened the door. "I was going to ask Bloo, but--"

"_She's crazy!" _

Mac, Wilt, and Eduardo could only watch as a blue bur ran by, screaming as an angry imaginary bird-like friend followed close at his heels. The other imaginary friends enjoying the rest of the day outside on the front yard continued to go about their business as if nothing out of the ordinary was occurring.

"Well, let's go." Mac said absently as he closed the door behind them.

* * *

"Okay, remember guys, we're only here for garlic bread."

Mac readjusted his backpacks shoulder straps as they stood outside the automatic doors of the grocery store. He wasn't sure why they were hesitating to step in, but since they were he thought it was best to restate their purpose. Often times they were distracted or they were just plain unlucky and things happened to get in the way. Whatever the case was, Mac believed things would go smoothly without Bloo with them.

"Got it." Wilt saluted.

"Sí, comprende." Eduardo nodded with a smile.

They entered the store, Wilt having to bend down in order to fit through the doorway.

"I think it's--"

"Potatoes!" Eduardo shouted as he pointed to a section of the store.

"Ed, wait!" Mac shouted after him in exasperation.

"Hey, there's a sale on laundry detergent and milk. We do need to restock." Wilt said thoughtfully as he headed over to the bulletin board that had the ads spread out and pinned, showing the sales for that week.

"Wilt, we only need garlic bread right now." Mac reminded him.

"We could pick up a few more things. Think of it as killing two birds with one stone. Well, not literally. I mean it'd be really bad and pretty pointless to just throw a stone and happen to kill two birds with it. That would be horrible." Wilt stopped himself, realizing he was getting away with his thoughts and turned to Mac with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, does that make sense?"

"Wilt..." Mac began, but said friend was already turned back to the adds.

"Sorry, is that okay?"

Mac opened his mouth to argue and tell him that it _wasn't_ okay, but opted to sigh instead. It seemed that he would have to retrieve the bread himself after all. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped forward. The breath was knocked out of his lungs as the straps on his shoulders jerked him backwards, sending him stumbling back. Mac opened his mouth to let out a cry of surprise, but a hand effectively muffled his cry and he found himself being dragged out of the stores entrance and around the corner towards a more deserted area.

"Hey, little brother."

"Terrence." Mac mumbled behind the hand, glaring out of the corner of his eyes.

"What's that?" Terrence grinned as he pulled his hand away, but instead of giving Mac a chance to speak he jerked his brother around, grabbing him harshly by the shoulders. "Still with your weirdo friends."

"What do you want?" Mac grunted as Terrence tightened his hold. Mac had grown taller and picked up a few things to help him avoid a beating from his brother, but as he changed, so did Terrence. Terrence still towered over him and if he thought that Terrence's immaturity might have lessened to spare Mac a few poundings, Mac found himself proven terribly wrong as it seemed Terrence had seemed to grow even more ruthless than ever before. It could have been from the fact that Terrence, no longer sneering at him with his crooked teeth was now snarling at Mac with a mouth full of metal. His acne had gotten worse and so had his temper.

"Now, now." Terrence grinned at him, his lips cracked from the dry heat of the summer sun. It looked painful even to Mac as he suspected Terrence had most likely cut his mouth more than once from his braces. "Is that any way to talk to your older brother?"

Before Mac could reply, he was slammed into the stone wall of the grocery store just near the corner. Mac let out a low groan as he felt pain shoot up his front. His head throbbed from impact against the wall, but he managed to avoid hitting his nose. He didn't want to have to deal with the mess of a nosebleed. Nosebleeds left evidence if they weren't dealt with quickly and evidence would lead to the conviction of his older brother, which could only promise a more painful pounding sooner or later.

Terrence snorted with laughter and Mac tightened his hands, remembering they were in his pockets. His eyes widened slightly as he felt the money Frankie had entrusted with him clenched tightly in his hand and forced himself to relax. If Terrence found him with the money, he would most likely take it. Whether or not it belonged to Mac or someone else, it mattered little to his older brother.

"What's in your pocket?"

Mac tensed, his thoughts going wild as he gave into the insane theory that his brother could read his mind, but soon pushed it aside as Terrence stared at his arms shoved deep into pockets. The awkward position would have caught any idiot's attention, especially after Mac had failed to fight off Terrence's assault.

"I've got things to do, so just leave--"

Terrence ignored him as he grabbed one arm, unfortunately the one that was holding the money tightly in Mac's pocket, and yanked it from the material of his pants, holding it high in the air for a moment before he twisted it behind Mac's back. For Mac's worth, he didn't cry out, but there was a sharp intake of breath as he clenched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth to keep his hand from opening.

"Woah!" The exclamation and the weight removed from his hand told him he had failed in his efforts just before he was shoved to the ground.

"What're you doing with this much cash? A little gift for you brother, huh?" Terrence snorted.

Mac scrambled to his feet, his cheek scratched and dirt covering his front as he whirled around to grab the money back from Terrence. Expecting the act of retaliation, Terrence grabbed Mac's lunging hand by the wrist and once again twisted it at an awkward angle, bringing Mac to his knees with a shout in a mixture of shock and pain.

Terrence laughed above him, tossing the wad of money up and catching it with an air of arrogance. Mac felt his breath coming out in short gasps. Wilt and Eduardo were still in the store and the parking lot was empty save for a few people possibly walking along the sidewalk way on the _other _side of the parking lot, or even waiting with their backs turned as they sat at the bus stop. Mac clenched his eyes shut, struggling against his brother's hold even as pain shot through his arm, making him gasp. It wasn't his money to be stolen, it belonged to Frankie, no, Foster's!

Mac could hear Terrence's laughter thundering in his ears as he gave a final twist and pushed Mac to the ground once more. Mac laid there for a moment before pushing himself up with his good arm, glaring at Terrence through one of his eyes, the other still clenched shut as it teared from the dirt that had managed to seep in. Terrence offered his metallic grin and waved the money above Mac's face.

"Thanks for spotting me, bro!" Terrence snickered as he took a step back.

Mac felt his body shaking as he watched Terrence start to back pedal, relishing in his temporary victory over his little brother. Mac was up on his feet as he stared at the money waving in Terrence's hand and knew he couldn't let his brother get away with it. There was no one to save the day and Mac knew that it would be he and he alone that would be able to retrieve that money.

"Haha--urk?!" Terrence stumbled the same moment Mac chose to lunge at the teenager. Mac's eyes clenched shut as he let out a battle cry, charging his shoulder into his brother. Terrence's hands flailed out at his sides, catching something with his right hand as both he and Mac hit the ground, Terrence taking most of the impact of the fall as the air was knocked from his lungs. Mac winced as something small smacked him on the head with enough force to disorient him for a few seconds. As he regained his bearings, Mac's eyes focused on the money Frankie had given him. His eyes widened as he saw it lying a few feet from Terrence's head, realizing it must have been tossed away when they fell.

Mac felt his spirits rise as he scrambled off his brother, reaching for the money only to have his foot snagged by the ankle and a bone chilling voice that stopped him completely in his tracks.

"You're dead, dork!" Terrence snarled as he dragged Mac back across the pavement, rubbing his palms raw. Mac flipped over onto his side to get better control of his legs and in order to aim when he kicked, but he froze when he saw Terrence wind his arm back, his hand clench into a fist. Panic taking over, Mac could only throw his arms over his face as he braced himself for the impact.

Instead, he heard Terrence's grunt of confusion followed by a small cracking sound. Terrence yelped in pain and the grip on Mac's ankle disappeared. Confused about what just happened, Mac wondered if Wilt and Eduardo had found him and let his arms fall to the side as he looked up hopefully.

Terrence was clutching the side of his face near his eye with both his hands, sitting on his rear as he grit his teeth in pain. On the ground lay silver colored plastic pieces as well as a long cord connected onto what seemed to be a pair of earphones. Mac slowly followed the line of the wire and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw figure standing just a foot away from Terrence.

It wasn't Wilt nor was it Eduardo. From what Mac could tell, it wasn't even an adult. Their face was obscured by the hood of their gray sweater that even caused sweat to break out across Mac's forehead. From the depths of the sweater hung the dull, silver colored wire that connected to the two ear pieces that were strewn on the ground, held together by the same wire. From the baggy jeans that covered sneakers almost completely from view and they seemed to have been dragged across the ground considering how it was frayed at the ends, Mac guessed it was a teenage boy about Terrence's age.

For a moment Mac could see the expression on the stranger's face. The corners of his mouth was turned down into a frown, lips pressing together to form a thin line. The action had Mac believing that he's savior may have been regretting his reactions.

He probably did if he wasn't prepared to fight. Or even worse, he _couldn't_ fight. But then, why would he risk interfering if he was only end up taking a beating for Mac?

However, Mac could not continue his thoughts. Terrence had snapped out of his trance and was up on his feet, grabbing the boy by the shoulders to face him. Terrence probably had a few inches on the other boy. Mac felt his hopes sink as he looked between the two teenagers and could only wonder about what things could escalate to. It was one thing for Terrence to beat on Mac. It was another to see him fight someone that seemed to actually stand a chance. Or so Mac hoped.

"Ter--" Mac began, but Terrence ignored him.

"What's your problem, punk?" Terrence snarled through his braces.

Silence was Terrence's only response as the boy looked at him calmly from out of his hoodie. With little patience, Terrence pushed the boy back against the wall. Aside from the slight wince crossing his expression, the boy didn't react.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Terrence glowered.

"I'm sorry."

Both Terrence and Mac could only stare at the newcomer in surprise at his quiet apology. Neither had expected such a response, but soon Terrence got over the initial shock and Mac feared for what was to come.

"Sorry?" Terrence repeated incredulously. "You think you can just say sorry and, just like that? You're stupid earphones nearly took out my eye!"

Terrence pointed to the bluish, purple mark that was forming at the corner of his left eye, causing him to squint and making him look more like a deranged lunatic than threatening air he was trying to convey, which in itself was disturbing enough. The stranger matched his gaze, unwavering, but for the briefest moment his eyes darted towards Mac and toward the path behind him, before meeting Terrence's glare once more.

The stranger tilted his gaze, away from Terrence as he moved his hand toward the messenger bag on at his side. He raised the hand closest to it, or at least the sleeve of his long sweater, shaking it in order to free his hand from the confines of the material. Terrence however, tensed at the movement and slammed him against the wall by giving a quick, hard shove to one of his shoulders. The other teenager stilled in his movements, wincing at the unexpected reaction.

"What're you think you're doing?" Terrence demanded.

The teenager slowly raised his gaze to meet Terrence's, but once again he looked over at Mac. Mac could only stare as the other boy's eyes held his for a moment and again, Mac noticed the slight movement of his gaze that seemed to go beyond Mac, before quickly meeting Terrences impatient glare. Mac glanced over his shoulder in slight confusion. His eyes widened in understanding as he snapped his gaze back over to his brother and the other teenager.

_He wants me to run_, Mac thought with sudden clarity. _He wants me to run while he keeps Terrence occupied. _

"I'm terribly sorry." The teenager said in the same quiet voice. "I was trying to--"

"To catch me off guard with a sucker punch?" Terrence supplied, his lips pulling back to reveal a metal snarl. Terrence's hand slid from the other boys' shoulder and moved to grasp the excess material of their hoodie and raised the boy high enough that Mac could see him shuffling to keep balance on the balls of his feet. They could hear the boys' sharp intake of breath. With a sinking heart, Mac could see his expression was blank, except for the slight trembling and the bead of sweat that made its way down the side of his face that even Mac could see visibly from where he stood.

Terrence raised his arm, pulling it back as his hand clenched into a fist. His snarl turned into a sneer. Mac felt his mouth go dry as he looked to the other boy, almost in desperation.

However, it seemed the other boy was not going to fight back, nor even attempt to stop him.

"_Terrence_!" Mac shouted without a second thought, charging until he slammed his elbow into his older brother's side. Terrence doubled over his knees as Mac pulled away, his chest heaving as he stumbled back. Terrence looked up at him sharply, wheezing as he held the side Mac had struck. Mac was too horrified at his own bravery (and stupidity) to think about anything else, including the stranger he had just 'saved' as he looked into Terrence's eyes, now burning with hatred meant for him and him alone.

Ah, brotherly love.

"When... I'm through with you--" Terrence wheezed as he struggled to his feet, one arm still holding his side as he grimaced with pain.

The hair standing on the back of his neck, Mac took his chance as Terrence took a moment to control his breathing. Mac whirled around, pivoting on his left foot as he lunged for the money on the ground. He paused, for the briefest of moments to shove it deep into his pocket, but that moment was all Terrence needed as he looked up to see his brother with his back turned to him. Like an enraged bull, Terrence bowed his head in the slightest and gave a primal cry as he charged toward his little brother.

However, Terrence failed to take notice of the wire that still lay at his feet and the face that the other boy was still there. Without thinking, the other boy took both ends of his earphones and pulled hard just as Terrence's foot was caught, sweeping him off his feet and landing with a very noisy face plant onto the pavement.

Mac had stumbled to his feet and was attempting to make his escape, but couldn't help but glance back over his shoulder at the strange outcry. His eyes widened at the sight of Terrence once again flat on his face, the stranger standing the same distance away as when Mac first saw him, his fingers curled around the wire of his earphones now pulled taunt. Mac's eyes widened as he made to turn around, but he was stopped as he hit something, causing him to stumble back. Mac would have just about mimicked Terrence's current position had it not been for a hand that had reached out and steadied him by his outstretched arm.

"Woah! There you are Mac."

Mac blinked and tilted his head back to see Wilt with an expression filled with relief. Mac blinked before twisting around and lowering his gaze to find Eduardo standing behind Wilt, his face filled with concern.

"Wilt! Eduardo!" Mac gasped.

"We searched the whole store for you. You just disappeared!" Eduardo said with a frown.

"Yeah, what happ--Oh." Wilt answered his own question as he took his eyes off of Mac.

"Oh, yeah. It's no problem." Mac said as he pulled his arm from Wilt's grip, He waved the money at them with a smile. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"I see." Wilt said with a hint of amazement. He shook his head once then looked at Mac with a frown. "Still, I'm so sorry Mac. We had no idea--"

"No, it's okay." Mac waved off the apology. "That guy over there came by and--"

"What guy?" Eduardo interrupted.

"What do you mean? He's right... " Mac trailed off when he finally turned to point at his savior only to find Terrence sitting on the ground, holding a hand to his face.

"By gnose!" Terrence was mumbling through his hands, gaining their attention.

"What?" Mac said in confusion as he stepped towards Terrence, his eyes roving the area.

"By gose, you 'ork!" Terrence shouted in a nasally tone, but Mac ignored him as the question hadn't been directed to him. Where had the other boy gone?

Something white caught Mac's eye next to Terrence's foot. He hurried over, kneeling down to pick it up. Wilt and Eduardo could only watch in bewilderment, still stunned at the sight they were greeted with. Even Terrence had silenced his complaints to see what had caught Mac's attention.

It was a small bottle no bigger than the size of his palm. He wondered if it had always been there, but it looked relatively new. As he picked it up, something else caught his eye, causing him to divert his attention to the new object.

It was the the plastic pieces from the earphones.

Mac looked up again, scanning the area as far as he could see, but he was only met with a parking lot devoid of any life except for a few sparsely parked cars. Slowly, he looked back at the ground and reached for the object that had caught his attention in the first place.

"Mac?"

Mac blinked and slowly looked up to see his friends faces. He could see the questions in their eyes, but he only shook his head, his own questions filling his mind.

"It's a bottle of aspirin." Mac said, shaking it for emphasis. The tiny pills clattered together inside the bottle noisily. He looked at Terrence out of the corner of his eyes to see a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Mac?"

Mac looked up at the uncertain expression on his friends faces. He offered them a weak smile. Then he turned to Terrence sharply. Terrence looked back at him, his hand still hovering over his nose that wasn't even bleeding. It seemed to be fine except for a small scrap that could be seen on the bridge.

"Here."

"Wha?" Terrence gaped at him for a moment.

"Take it!" Mac insisted in slight annoyance.

"I don't have a headache, stupid!" Terrence said more understandably, his nasally tone fading as he removed his hand from his face completely.

Now in the presence of his friends and Terrence's pride wounded, Mac was no longer apprehensive of his older brother, only irritated by his ignorance.

"It's for the pain!" Mac explained shortly, shaking the bottle in his face.

"I don't _need_ it." Terrence growled back, knocking it from Mac's hand. "I don't _need_ your stupid aspirin!"

Rather than feeling indignant, Mac let his arm fall to his side, shrugging.

"It's not mine." Terrence stared at him in surprise as Mac turned his back on him.

"We better hurry, Frankie's probably wondering what we're doing." Mac said cheerfully as he adjusted the straps of his backpack against his shoulders.

Wilt and Eduardo exchanged glances as Mac walked passed them and around the corner, motioning them to follow him. They started to turn around, but made sure to give Terrence one last look before heading after him.

Terrence sneered as he heard the sound of the tall one's squeaking sneakers and the hairy ones thunderous steps fade away as they entered the store. He looked at the ground, frowning as he hesitantly reached up towards his nose, hissing in pain as it throbbed in response to the light brush of his fingers. He growled, catching sight of the plastic pieces of the earphones belonging to the punk that did this to him. He picked it up and tossed it as hard as he could at the wall, only to have it bounce back and clip him in the same spot the earphones had hit him earlier.

Howling in pain, Terrence clutched the bruise, only to jerk his hands away as the pressure brought only more pain. Tears pricking the corners of his eyes Terrence looked down to see the bottle of aspirin lying at his side from when he knocked it out of Mac's hand.

"Stupid bottle!" Terrence snarled as he scrambled to his feet, raising his foot to stomp the plastic insult to his pride out of existence.

Then slowly, he put his foot down and picked up the bottle.

* * *

_どうしてそれなのに私は。。。_

_だけど私は。。。_

_約束を覚えているの_

_忘れた日はないの_

* * *

**AN**: I hope it wasn't too bad. Comments and reviews are greatly appreciated :D emails too! I hope you enjoyed the beginning of my new project :) 


	2. The Teenager

**AN**: Thank you to everyone who's following the progress of my story :)

**Important Note** My profile gives a more detailed summary and from time to time I may add little updates and teasers for what's to come. This story is not for the faint of heart. I do like to put in some humor, but my sense of humor might differ from yours, my wonderful readers :) So hopefully you don't end up cringing at my lame attempts to make you smile and quite possibly, cry. Yes, there may be smidges of romance further on in the story, but I find friendship may be the more prominent theme. I'll try to give all the character's a little lime light, but some chapters will tend to favor some character's more than others. Again, I_ must stress_, this story** will become _darker_ **as time progresses, but I'm sure you'll be able to handle it :) But, just in case.

**Special thanks** to those who took the time to leave me a review :) Thank you **Dude13**, I'm glad this story has caught your interest. Yes, Mac's question and Frankie's reaction does play a big role in the story :) Thank you **Ippiki Ookami no Kage**, I'm glad you find my story interesting and yes, the interaction between Mac and Frankie is indeed important :) As for the 'mysterious teenager,' well... Thank you **Falconlobo**, I'm glad you thought my chapter was entertaining enough to describe it as 'awesome,' :) That's very thoughtful to restrain yourself in consideration of the other readers, but I, myself am curious as to what your hypothesis is. So you think there's a connection, do you:) Let's see if you're theory is right. No offense, but I hope it's not or else that means I'm not very original, doesn't it? D: and thank you to **SilverStarling**, I'm sorry that the prologue was so confusing D: But I am glad that it was interesting enough for you to do a little searching and how you found the info on my profile yourself, great job :D I'm so glad you think they're in character :D That's a very important thing to me, so let's hope I can keep them as close to their true character as possible as the story progresses! I'm really curious to what your theory is, I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations :D

As always, comments and constructive criticism is welcome. Don't be afraid to e-mail me either, I love making new friends :D Again, thank you to everyone reading my story and I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends :( I do own the "mysterious teenager." :D

* * *

**Twisted**

_**The Teenager**_

* * *

_"I am prepared to meet anyone, but whether anyone is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter." **Mark Twain**_

* * *

It had been a day since Mac's encounter with his brother and the stranger from the grocery store. They had been successful in retrieving the garlic bread, as well as a few other items. Wilt and Eduardo had been strangely surprised when Mac had said nothing against their other purchases. The rest of their shopping had continued without a hitch, but none of them spoke a word as they returned home from the store. Frankie had been too preoccupied to give them any more recognition that a quick thanks before rushing back to the kitchen with the garlic bread they held out to her. She neither noticed their extra purchases nor asked for any change and they did not stop to remind her.

Mac had already decided that it would have been pointless to convince the other two that there had been someone else there. He knew by their expressions and the hesitance in their voices that they believed _he_ had nearly broken Terrence's nose. That in itself didn't bother him, in fact, he would have liked to say that he had single handedly kept his brother at bay and taught him a thing or two about messing with him, but the point was that Mac _hadn't_ and there _had_ been someone else there.

It seemed to be an unspoken agreement not to mention what happened as they sat down to lunch. Everyone had talked animatedly amongst one another, but Wilt and Eduardo could see the slight difference in Mac's behavior whenever they glanced over in his direction. They would quickly lower their eyes and belatedly join in the laughter at the punch line of some hackneyed joke or join in a conversation with automatic responses, careful not to be caught by Mac's gaze.

They didn't have to worry as Mac never took even a moment to glance over at them and no one seemed to notice that anything out of the ordinary had occurred.

However, today was a new day and with it came Mac's new resolve. He had decided to tell Bloo and even if his best friend didn't believe him, the idea to find the teenager from before might hold interest and promise of an adventure. That might have worked if it was Bloo that Mac encountered the moment he stepped into Foster's.

"Hey, Mac." Frankie had welcomed him with an arm full of laundry, stumbling as she pulled open the door.

"Hey, Frankie." Mac responded automatically before questioning her. "Where's Bloo?"

"Out back, I think." Frankie said as she held the door open for Mac, and then closing it behind him as she pulled away from the door. She turned to the main staircase and headed to the second floor.

"Oh, okay." Mac said as he watched her make her way up the steps.

Instead of heading to the back yard, Mac found himself following Frankie up the staircase. He realized his feet had started moving of their own accord, but rather than stopping and heading back down to find the original friend he had wanted to visit, he let his body lead the way.

"The change." Mac said suddenly.

Frankie jumped, sending clothes falling to the ground from the precariously made pile in the laundry basket she held. Reaching the top of the steps, Frankie looked over her shoulder with wide eyes.

"Mac! You scared me. I thought you went to find Bloo?" Frankie frowned as she noticed the articles of clothing strewn down the staircase. "Man."

"I got it." Mac said quickly as he scrambled around the steps, bundling up the fallen clothes in his arm. Frankie smiled at him before turning around and back towards her destination.

"What were you saying?" Frankie asked, glancing out of the corner of her eyes.

"The change. From yesterday." Mac reminded her as he hurried after her. He slowed when he caught up and fell in step besides her. "For the garlic bread? And... stuff."

"Oh, yeah. I think Wilt gave it to me. You did give it to him, right?" Frankie questioned as she turned her head to look at him.

"Oh yeah, right." Mac said sheepishly. "I forgot."

"Mmhmm." Frankie stopped at one of the doors. "Sorry, could you... ?"

"What? Oh, right!" Mac pushed the bundle to one arm as he reached out with his other to open the door for Frankie. She gave him a word of thanks as she stepped into the room, holding the door open with her back as she waited for Mac to enter the room.

"Thanks, Mac." Frankie said as she put the basket down with an exaggerated sigh of relief. Mac only nodded as he placed the clothes on top of the pile. Frankie nodded at him before moving to the corner of the room to drag out an empty basket, sliding it over to rest besides the full one. Then she headed to the laundry chute, pulling out piles of clothes. She stopped short when she realized Mac was still there.

"Hey." Mac looked up, startled by her call. "I could use some help."

"Sure." Mac said as he dropped his pack where he stood. He walked over to Frankie to relieve her of her armful of clothes and headed over to the empty laundry basket. Frankie arched an eyebrow, but made no further comment until she had pulled out the rest of the clothes from the laundry basket sitting under the chute. She dumped the clothes on the floor, purposely aiming so that a majority landed on Mac's head.

Mac opened his mouth to protest, but soon Frankie was spilling the contents of the basket they had just brought up.

"Frankie?"

"What's on your mind?" Frankie asked as she placed two empty baskets in front of them, plopping down next to Mac in a sea of dirty laundry.

"Why did you--" Mac began, gesturing his hands to the laundry, but Frankie waved his question off carelessly.

"Separate the whites from the colors. Now, seriously. What's bothering you?" Frankie asked as she unofficially dubbed one of the baskets as the 'whites' basket by throwing a pair of white socks into it.

"What are you talking about?" Mac asked hesitantly. "There's nothing--"

"Spare me." Was Frankie's trenchant response. Mac frowned opening his mouth to retort back, but Frankie had thrown a blue shirt onto his head, hinting that he should toss it into the 'colors' basket that lay closer to him. "You really think I'd believe a ten year old would rather do laundry than be outside playing with his friends?"

Mac slowly pulled the shirt off his head and tossed it into the basket with a contemplative look on his face. Frankie was right. He had followed her for a reason and it wasn't because of his love of doing laundry. He looked over at the older girl, opening his mouth only to be hit with another shirt.

"Come on, as long as you're here, I'm going to exploit you as much as I can. You can work and talk at the same time, can't you?" Frankie joked, a smile dawning on her face as Mac pulled off the shirt with a scowl on his face. "So, what's this all about?"

"It was when we went to the store, yesterday." Mac paused. "And for the record, you're one of my friends too."

"I know. Go on." Frankie's smile widened at his almost unnecessary affirmation.

"We went to the store and saw Terrence. He grabbed me and dragged me into the parking lot while Wilt and Eduardo were in the store and he was going to take the money you gave to me, but I couldn't let him do that. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't and just when he was going to get away, someone came and saved me and got the money back, but then he took off when Wilt and Eduardo finally noticed I was gone, but it was really weird because they were right there just a second ago and it's even weirder because they left a bottle of aspirin for Terrence who nearly broke his nose from his fall."

For a long time nothing was said. The only sounds that could be heard was the humming of the washing machines and Mac's heavy breathing as he recovered from his amazing feat of delivering his story in one breath.

"_What_?" Frankie sat back on her heels, looking over at Mac incredulously.

Mac took a deep breath, following Frankie's example as he began to retell his story. "We went to the store--"

"Wait, wait." Frankie waved her hands to quickly stop Mac from repeating his antics. "Okay, I got the whole seeing Terrence at the store and getting the money taken. You kind of lost me at the part where someone saved you... ?"

"This guy stopped Terrence." Mac said. "I don't know who he was."

"So some guy saved you at the grocery store, huh?" Frankie said as she resumed her work with the laundry. Then jokingly, she added, "Kind of like a hero. Was he wearing a costume?"

"No! I mean, he did, but he wasn't wearing a costume. And he didn't... well..." Mac stumbled over his words. "It's kind of weird."

"But that's nice, isn't it? Someone came to help you. Played the hero card." Frankie pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess." Mac tossed a shirt into one of the baskets. "But I wouldn't call him a hero."

"Sorry. Savior, then?" Frankie joked. "Was he shorter than you or something? A hit to your pride, being saved by someone shorter than you?"

"No!" Mac said angrily. "He was taller than me, but I didn't get a clear look at his face--"

"Oh, mysterious." Frankie joked.

"Frankie!"

"Sorry, sorry." Frankie raised her hands in mock surrender. "Go on."

"He ran away, Frankie." Mac said quietly, his brows furrowed together. "And he was going to get beat up by Terrence. For my sake."

That caught Frankie's attention.

"You mean, he didn't fight Terrence?" Frankie asked in surprise. "You made it sound like he swooped in and knocked Terrence out."

"He caught his attention, but then Terrence was going to hurt him and I knocked Terrence over before he could do any real damage. He didn't do anything." Mac looked over at Frankie. "He just stood there. I could see him shaking, Frankie."

"You should be really grateful then, shouldn't you?" Frankie said in an almost reprimanding tone. "He was willing to get hurt for you."

"Don't get me wrong," Mac said quickly. "I mean, I really am grateful. I want to thank him and everything, but... it's just weird."

"Why?"

"C'mon, Frankie!" Mac threw his hands up in the air in an effort to help express the mixture of feelings welling up inside of him. "Isn't it weird? Some guy saves you, but all he does is stand there and takes a beating for you? He didn't even _try_ to fight him."

"Mac..." Frankie sighed.

"I know I sound ungrateful, but I really did appreciate the fact that someone was there to help me. I just..." Mac sighed, his shoulders slumping as his hands fell onto his lap. "I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"Maybe you should find him and talk to him." Frankie suggested after a moment.

Mac gave her a flat look.

"Yeah. Kind of hard when he disappeared on me yesterday."

"Yeah, I can really see you brainstorming over this." Frankie said dryly. "Just go to the store and look around there. He must live close by."

"I didn't even get a good look at his face and I doubt he's going to be wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday."

Frankie pursued her lips in slight irritation. The kid really was too bright for his own good at times. Sometimes she could have sworn she was talking to a old man rather than a ten year old boy.

"I thought imaginary friends were supposed to sound more like their creators, not the other way around." Frankie said airily.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mac asked sharply.

"Seems like a certain _bloo_ friend is rubbing off on you, eh? Making excuses to cover up for laziness--"

"What? I'm not making excuses!" Mac said in indignation. "I mean, they're valid--"

"Mac!"

Mac and Frankie looked over at the door in surprise at the familiar voice. The laundry lay completely forgotten during their conversation. However, rather than seeing the small blue friend, they only saw the door bouncing off the wall from being forcefully opened. Both of them frowned in confusion as they got up on their feet, heading towards the door. As they drew closer to the doorway they could see something odd laying outside on the carpet in the hallway.

"What's that?" Mac asked as he poked his head out of the doorway.

"What's that? _What's that_?" A shrill voice asked in disbelief. "That, my slow witted friend is my key to victory. Not that I need, seeing as how _awesome_ I am."

Frankie and Mac jumped with a start as they looked down the hall to see Bloo hurrying over to the pair of objects that lay in front of the door to the laundry room.

"Excuse me?" Frankie said as she eyed the object in Bloo's grasp.

"You're excused. Sheesh, Frankie, I thought girls were supposed to be embarrassed by that sort of thing. Have some shame, woman!" Bloo reprimanded. "So, ready to watch me humiliate and disgrace Wilt for his disputable claim that he is the king of the courts and outright challenge of my _awesome_ skills?"

"What? No!" Frankie nearly shouted in embarrassment. "We're doing laundry--"

"Yeah, su_-u-_ure."

"What? Challenge?" Mac interrupted the conversation between Frankie and Bloo as he picked up on the last statement Bloo had made. "There's no way Wilt said--"

"Mac, _please_! I was there. You should have heard the things he said!"

Mac and Frankie crossed their arms over their chests, arching an eyebrow in response to Bloo's claims.

Realizing he wasn't about to get any sympathy from his audience, Bloo simply dropped the act.

"So you coming?" He asked shortly.

"And see you get your butt whooped? Of course." Mac grinned as Bloo's jaw dropped at his comment.

"How _could_ you even _think_ such a thing when it's obvious that I have the ultimate and most state-of-the-art footwear that will not only amplify my height, but increase my already incredible basketball skills by a gagillion-fold!"

"You're using stilts." Mac paused. "And there's no such number as a gagillion."

"Oh yeah, mister I-think-I-know-everything?" Bloo sneered, holding his head up high as he gathered his stilts under his arms. "We'll see out on the court, won't we?"

With that Bloo turned to head back down the steps, only to be jerked back in the hallway as the stilts kept him from making a full turn. Bloo stared at the objects in his grasp, exerting more force as he tried to pull himself free. He soon grew frustrated as he braced his 'feet' on the floor, tugging with all his might until he found himself slipping down on the hardwood floors and under the stilts that landed on his midsection, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Frankie and Mac rolled their eyes as Bloo made incoherent noises of frustration, prompting Mac to help his struggling friend. Mac twisted the stilts so that they were parallel with the floor and held one end while Bloo took his time dusting himself off and then headed down the hall, leaving Mac to stare after him in momentary surprise.

"Well, c'mon! We don't have all day!" Bloo said before disappearing down the steps as Mac found himself standing in the hall with Frankie, stilts under his arm.

"Got you good, didn't he?" Frankie smirked.

"We'll see on the court, like he said." Mac said coolly as he readjusted his grip on the stilts. They weren't as light as they looked. "It'll be worth it to see Wilt wipe the floor with him."

"I don't know about that." Frankie said with her smirk still in place. "I hate to admit, but that guy can be pretty resourceful. A lot like his creator."

Mac looked over at her in surprise.

"Oh, sure. Sometimes I can't believe that he's _your_ imaginary friend, but then there are qualities than really stand out in him that proves that he came from _your_ imagination, without a doubt." Frankie grinned.

Mac stared at Frankie for a moment before slowly returning her smile, but soon his demeanor changed as a thought struck him.

"Speaking about imaginary friends--"

"Mac," Frankie began in a flat tone, "We talk _with_ imaginary friends every day."

"Yeah, but we're talking _about_ them right now." Mac pressed. "_And_ the ones who created them--"

Before Mac could hit the point that he was trying to lead up to, a shrill voice rang throughout the hallways.

"_Frankie_!"

"Gottagobye!" Mac said in one breath before dashing away as quickly as he could while holding the stilts under his arm.

Frankie merely groaned, not bothering to hide her displeasure as Mac left her alone to face what could have been considered the very bane of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

"What?" Frankie said in an equally displeased tone.

Silky, white colored material was thrown at her face, followed by multiple other outfits as Frankie stumbled to bat them away, reaching up to keep them from obscuring her vision.

"What--"

"Have I not told you time and again, you incompetent fool?" Duchess demanded shrilly, her snout swinging back and forth in front of her vertical lips that were painted a shocking shade of red, her earrings following suit as they dangled towards her chin, swinging in a rhythm matching that of her snout in her anger. "You wash my things with _imported _water. Not with the same water used on these lowly worms--"

"Now, listen here you spoiled--" Frankie began indignantly as she dropped Duchess' things to the ground in anger.

"How dare you! Pick them up and clean them _immediately_! I want water from the Swiss Alps, the Himalayas, Fiji, _anywhere_ _else_ but from this common water system!" Duchess demanded in her usual snobby tone that showed no consideration for anything unless it were somehow related to her own affairs.

"You..." Frankie stuttered, her own anger rising and interfering with her cognitive processes to form a coherent sentence, or in this case, a threat.

"You took those horrible rags to the dry cleaners last week, yet you toss my dresses with the _disgusting_ laundry belonging to the _disgusting _tenants of this _disgusting_ place?" Duchess sneered her open contempt for the household.

"Those were Madame Foster's textiles!" Frankie sputtered in disbelief. "They were practically dragged through the mud because of Bloo--I couldn't get the stains out no matter how many times I'd throw them in the wash and even if I tried, they'd be ruined!"

"Such pathetic excuses that my ears do not care to be bothered with." Duchess responded disinterestedly.

"What? I can't... you..." Incoherent noises started to pour from Frankie's mouth as she struggled to restrain herself.

"You do this or I make your life and the pitiful lives of everyone else in this house as miserable as I feel every day that I am forced to reside in this horrible place!"

That seemed to be the last straw as Frankie clamped her mouth shut, a tick in her cheek starting as she ground her teeth together in frustration.

"All right, _Duchess_. I'll do it." Duchess mouth formed a satisfied smile. "But this is a one time deal and I don't want to _hear_ _any complaints about how I do laundry_. Either take it or I toss you in the wash!" Frankie spat, her entire body rigid and tense with anger.

Duchess' smile dropped at once and she had the decency to gasp and step back at Frankie's murderous glare, but that lasted for only the briefest of seconds before she turned up her nose, her head held high as she turned to retrace her steps, taking her back the way she had come.

"Rogue." Frankie heard Duchess' last sniff as she disappeared from sight, leaving the young woman free to sag her shoulders, her eyes closed as she let out a breath. She looked up at the clock hanging on the wall that stood across from the washing machines.

"A trip to the dry cleaners and pizza for lunch. Trade in one chore for another." Frankie sighed as she trudged down the hall in search of a phone to place an order. It would undoubtedly take as much time to wait for Duchess' dry cleaning as it would to make enough pizzas to feed the entire house for lunch.

"Hello? Yeah, I'd like to place a few orders..." Frankie began breezily when she finally located the phone.

* * *

Being one who was subject to a variety of embarrassing situations, even Frankie found it difficult to keep her temper in check at the strange looks she was receiving as she piled multiples of the same outfit on to the counter of the local dry cleaners.

"How long do you think this will take?" Frankie asked quickly as she felt herself tensing under the worker's judgmental stare. She could practically hear the (not very complimentary) comments going through their minds. It shouldn't have bothered her since these were Duchess', but she was sure the clerk neither knew nor cared that she was actually running an errand to appease the spoiled tenant.

"A few hours."

"A few hours?" Frankie repeated incredulously. "Can't you do anything to speed the process along?"

"I'll see what I can do." The middle-aged man said with a noncommittal grunt as he gathered the material into his arms, turning around sharply and disappearing into the back before Frankie could open her mouth to emphasize her dilemma.

"Thanks." Frankie said half-heartedly in response to the man's less than sympathetic answer before turning away. It seemed quite obvious to Frankie that the man was going to do nothing of the sort. It was going to be done at his own slow and easy pace, most likely.

As she got to the bus, she half expected there to be a ticket to keep up with the current path that her day was following, but the bus stood there without a thing out of place. She sighed as she opened the folding doors and plopped down on the steps. A few hours could mean the whole day for such an 'over-achiever' and pure example of customer service at the dry cleaners. She could only hope that she was his only customer for the day and try her luck in just an hour or two. Perhaps if she were to be persistent enough, she might be able to time it perfectly and pick up the pizzas, making it back to Foster's in time for lunch.

She sighed for the umpteenth time that day as she pulled herself up to her feet, closing the folding doors as she made her way to the driver's seat. She let herself fall gracelessly onto the seat as she leaned back, sliding down so that her head was situated just below the window as she reached into her bag for a book she had brought in advance. She opened it and flipped through the pages. It had been a while since she had picked up this book. She had forgotten her page, but after a minute of searching she finally found a passage that seemed familiar.

_This is good_, Frankie thought as she stared at the pages of her book. _Time to myself to just read a book, relax... I should be glad. By the time I finish this, I'm sure the dry cleaning will be done_.

"Wha-?!" Frankie jolted awake with a snort, her book slipping to the floor from its place on her chest as she shot up in her seat, hands banging against the bottom of the steering wheel, alerting her further to her muddled senses.

Frankie winced as she shook her hands, looking around bleary-eyed as she tried to regain her bearings. Slowly her gaze slid down to the floor as her vision blurred in and out of focus before she finally settled her eyes on the book that now lay against her foot. She bent down to pick it up, leaning back with a yawn.

Realizing she had fallen asleep, Frankie tossed the book over her shoulder onto one of the seats behind her, stretching her arms high above her head as she let one last jaw-cracking yawn. Suddenly, Frankie's eyes widened as the reality of her situation hit her, shocking her onto her feet as she slammed open the folding doors and jumped from the bus.

As Frankie ran towards the dry cleaners, she unconsciously glanced around for some sort of clock, wondering just how long had she been asleep. She burst through the doors of the dry cleaners, still as empty as she had left it and her eyes settled onto a clock that hung high above the counter.

"Good timing." Frankie jerked her eyes back down, startled to find the middle-aged owner pulling her dry cleaning onto the counter.

"You're... done?" Frankie asked in disbelief. "Really?"

"I did what I could." The man said flatly.

Frankie could only stare at him for a moment. She quickly snapped out of her trance as she stepped up to the counter, sweeping the clothes into her arms with a weak smile. It had been only two hours since she had left. She hadn't lost that much time, in fact, this worked out pretty well for her.

"Thanks--" Frankie began, but a slip of paper was shoved under her nose. Her brows furrowed in confusion as her gaze focused onto the writing.

Her jaw dropped.

* * *

"Man!" Frankie said loudly as she marched back to the bus. "This is the last time, Duchess!"

Frankie nearly kicked open the doors to the bus as she walked up the steps, dumping the dry cleaning onto her book on the seat behind the driver's seat then sat in the driver's seat with a scowl jabbing the key into the ignition, starting the engine with a roar.

Just as Frankie reached for the lever to close the doors, out of the corner of her eyes she could see something moving towards the opening, stilling her movements for the a moment just before something was thrown onto the steps of the bus.

Frankie let out a yelp, her hands dropping as she jumped in her seat, eyes wide as she stared at the object now in her bus.

A teenager in a gray hooded sweater with dark colored jeans and a messenger's bag had actually thrown themselves onto the steps of the bus, clutching a box a large box that had a picture of a television on the sides. The box was almost too big for the teenager to hold in their arms, as they lay stretched on the steps, feet dangling over the curb and the box just inches away from Frankie's feet.

Frankie could only gape at the stranger as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. She stiffened as she saw the teenager move, shifting so that their feet was now safely planted on the bottom step, slowly lifting their head to reveal only the bottom portion of their face as the hood hung low, obscuring their eyes from Frankie's gaze. The stranger stared at Frankie, or at least, that's what Frankie guessed the stranger was doing as they moved closer to the box, hugging it like it was a precious treasure.

That was when Frankie heard the distant shouting of people, causing her to look over her shoulder as she could distinctly make out their distressed and enraged cries, then slowly turned back to the teenager to find him tensing in fear. It didn't take Frankie long to put two and two together as her eyes narrowed. She watched as the teenager dug into his pockets, pulling out a crumpled bill and scattering coins all over the floor of the bus, increasing his apprehension as he shoved the coins and bills towards Frankie.

Frankie arched an eyebrow. The stranger stared at Frankie's feet, visibly shaking beneath their gray hooded-sweater, one arm still tightly wound around the box. Frankie reached over to the lever, shutting the doors to the bus abruptly. The teenager slowly relaxed, taking it as a sign that Frankie was going to let them ride.

"All right, mister." Frankie's cold tone had the teenager looking up at her in an instant. She had crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes assessing the young boy and then the box in front of her. "This isn't the city bus."

The teenager looked up in surprise, giving Frankie a glimpse of his frightened gaze, before he dropped his head down again, hands stuffed into his pockets in search of more money.

"Stop!" Frankie snapped, causing the teenager to freeze. "No amount of money is going to get you out of this. And don't think you're going to pull me down with you--"

"Please!" The teenager said in a quiet voice, but the desperation was apparent. "I'm sorry!"

"Sorry that you stole something like that? Which looks pretty difficult.." Frankie trailed off thoughtfully. "I'm not sure how you managed to get this far--Never mind, that! I mean, you brought this on yourself--"

"I had to!"

"Had to?" Frankie repeated incredulously. Her care-taker instincts seemed to kick in as her expression soon turned to that of outrage, her stance mimicking the ones she took whenever she was in the midst of lecturing any one of the imaginary friends, and occasionally children, or adults who tended to behave like them. "Resorting to stealing at your age? What's the reason for this urgency that you _have_ to have this, huh?" Frankie gestured to the box, causing the teenager to tense as he scrambled up to place his body between Frankie and his stolen possession.

"Don't! Please..." The teenager said anxiously, glancing over their shoulder towards the bus' doors, then back to match Frankie's angry stare. "I-I'm sorry, but please..."

"Help you? Let you off the hook?" Frankie sighed, feeling just a hint of sympathy for the thief as he was now on his knees before Frankie, shaking from fright as he stood before his box. "Look, I mean, if you return it to them now I'm sure they'll be a lot easier on you, but I can't just let you get away with it-"

"No!" The teenager cried out in defiance.

"Calm down! I'll go with you, okay? Just return it--" Frankie tried to reason with the teenager once more, but she found herself faltering as the teenager shook his head from side to side rapidly in refusal, the hood bouncing about his head. Having just about enough of the teenager's attitude and having filled her quota of dealing with spoiled brats, Frankie scowled as she turned around abruptly, yanking the key from the ignition. The engine died down almost at once, the bus suddenly growing still causing the teenager to be momentarily distracted, giving Frankie the chance to grab the box from behind him.

"No! Please!" The startled teenager cried out as he turned to Frankie in horror, but to her surprise, he made no attempt to take it back. The teenager merely stood there, staring at Frankie, hands outstretched in a pleading gesture to return the box, but Frankie firmly shook her head before opening the folding doors to the bus.

"You can't expect to get off scot-free, okay? I mean, you _stole_ this from them. But if you return it and admit to your mistake, I'm sure they'll be a lot more lenient--" Frankie said just as she stepped out, slamming the doors shut and locking the bus. The teenager stared at the shut doors, momentarily stunned as Frankie turned her back on the doors to the bus, starting to walk away in search of the people who were after the teenager and the stolen item. She winced as she heard a sharp bang and crash, knowing that sound could only mean the teenager had attempted to force the doors open. And probably failed.

"You're just making it harder for yourself." Frankie said with a note of pity in her voice before she started down the sidewalk.

"I'm sorry, but I had to!" The teenager repeated in a quiet whisper, but something in his voice had Frankie slowing her pace. The teenager cried out.

"They were going to kill them!"

Frankie halted at once.

"_Them_?" Frankie repeated, dumbfounded.

Slowly Frankie's gaze rested on the top of the box in her arms. Now that she could clearly see the condition of it, the box was quite light for one that should have been holding a twenty-five inch screen television. The box was actually open, the tape had been ripped off the two top flaps and were gently bobbing from Frankie's earlier man-handling. She bent down and placed the box onto the pavement, kneeling down as she hesitantly pulled open one of the flaps.

Frankie whipped her head around to look over at the doors of the bus. The teenager's hood had fallen back in their desperation to force the doors open, their sleeves still covering their hands were pressed flat against the doors, sweat was rolling down their neck as dark hair hung down passed their shoulders into the hooded sweater, plastered on their neck and across their forehead. One of their sneakers lay on the top step, loosened from their movements.

An ashen-faced girl in a gray hooded sweater was staring back at her.

* * *

**AN**: More is revealed about the mysterious teenager :D I apologize for the lack of other characters D: and most of all, I apologize for my portrayal of Duchess. I think I did a pretty bad job on her, which is too bad because I actually happen to enjoy her character :D Anyway, the quote from above was meant for my original character, aka the mysterious teenager who shall soon be not as mysterious anymore. At least, by next chapter we'll have a name! So is Foster's prepared to meet the mysterious teenager? Is she even prepared? I hope you enjoyed this chapter:D 


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